For nostalgia's sake

What is the sound of home? Or the smell? What happens to you when you have a nostalgic memory of your youth? I heard a Bob Seger song this morning, and instantly I was in our living room, circa 1987. My mom and Bert (my step-dad) got a new record player, and man did they play the hell out of that Bob Seger record. Hearing it this morning, I was instantly thrown back to being 9 years old, sitting in our living room on 38th street in Moline, with my Mr. Microphone wrapped in electrical tape and my electric guitar Bert made for me out of plywood.

There are memories I have, so distinct and fluid. It's as if I was just jumping back in time, and I'm right there. Since I have no sense of smell, it is hard for me to remember things by my nose. Sad to say, it's true, that I can't remember the smell of my grandmothers house, or the smell of a christmas tree. But in this case, all of my other senses are heightened. I remember in visions, of the way things feel on my skin, the way things taste. It is how I have lived my whole life, and that's okay.

It's funny, the way things pop into your mind. When I hear Def Leppard's "Love Bites", I am instantly taken to 1988, to our driveway. Bert, Tina (my sister) and I sat out on lawn chairs in the heat of an August summer and watched Haley's Comet streak across the night sky. When I hear Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'", I'm with my dear friend Dave in the summer of 1996. I can remember the feel of the air conditioning on my young skin, sitting with Dave in his bedroom, just waiting for him to make his move... he never did. Or hearing Gloria Estefan and Miami Sound Machine, and I'm in the backseat of our sweaty, ancient Ford Escort station wagon, on our way to see them perform in Burlington, Iowa for some summer festival.

Not to say that I am living in the past. Quite the contrary, I am ready to get on with my life, which means getting out of here and starting our life in the QC. But I enjoy feeling nostalgic about certain moments in my life. It makes me feel as if I've not existed, but lived.

The first warm breeze in late April/early May, I can hear The Breeder's Cannonball and I'm at the Moline High School Fine Arts picnic at Riverside Park, playing volleyball with Gregg Lewis and Jeff DeLeon in 1994. I hear any song by the Spin Doctors (remember them?), and I'm thrown into the first year of my friendship with Lesley and the summer of Genesius Guild, 1993. I can taste a tater tot and I'm at the Sunset Grill/Big Papa's with the girls on Sunday nights. Or hear that Macy Gray tune that was so popular and I'm in my very first apartment in Bettendorf, a single girl out on her own.

I'm curious... what will I hear, or feel, or taste, that will remind me of my year on the ocean? I know I'm stronger and wiser for having come here. I'm more patient, I'm softer, I've changed. I'm finally a grown-up. I think all things I've experienced in my life have led me to this time and place, where I can finally realize that I'm no longer a "young adult". It's finally happened... adulthood. And the fun part for me is returning to the one place, where all those childhood memories live, and knowing how different I am than I was from when I left. It's going to be a blast.